


The Transformers: Tales From The Ark

by Lillydwight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-30 22:54:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20104960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillydwight/pseuds/Lillydwight
Summary: Millions of years ago, Cybertron was a peaceful planet that had successfully colonized many other planets throughout the Andromeda Galaxy. Then the war breaks out between Decimus Prime's forces and the rebellion led by Megatron. Years and many Prime's later, Optimus Prime finds himself in a terrible position - should they abandon Cybertron or stay and fight a losing war? The answer lies back in Cybertron's golden age...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Humanized Alternate Universe story!

The ARK traveled through space nearby the Titanous system, running quiet. A previous close call had everyone on edge as they slowly limped along, looking for respite.

In a quiet observation room stood a middle-aged man in a midnight blue jacket laced with maroon and dark grey pants. His cerulean blue eyes watched out into the darkness of space, his silver hair reflecting the dim lights of the room. The division patch on his shoulder signified he was a ground soldier, and the name tag read in Cybertronian, "Tracks." 

Tracks stood there, looking out of the window, pondering and waiting. _He should've been here by now_, Tracks thought to himself, _he's late_.

A door opened up behind Tracks and into the room walked a man of noble blood; he walked with money and talked with a accent only belonging to the upper classes. His azure uniform neatly arraigned.

"Mirage," Tracks began, "Its not like of you to be late."

"Of course, my dear Tracks, it puts a stain upon my reputation. However, I was stopped by that one security officer -"

"Strongarm?" Tracks broke into Mirage's sentence.

"Yeah. She stopped me and questioned me on my apparent 'lack' of regulation. I think she's trying to butter up to Red Alert for a promotion."

"Come, Mirage, let us sit here and chat. We have time." Tracks motioned to a sofa across the room and sat down opposite it. 

_Yeah,_ he thought to himself, _I got time._


	2. Chapter 2

Elsewhere in the ARK, a repair crew worked hard to get the outer wall fixed. The work crew, supplemented by non-critical personnel from each division, had too much work to do. Hoist led the crew in charge of repairs. Overlooking the instillation of a exterior panel, he watched as the finishing touches were put on it. His comm. unit pinged.

"Hoist, this is Grapple, do you read me?"

"I can hear you fine, Grapple, what did you need?" Hoist asked as he helped the men move another exterior panel into place and holding it as it was welded. "I'm kind of busy right now."

Hoist was starting to be exhausted, this was the not the first damaged spot they had to fix, and there was only so much his battlesuit could do to alleviate the pain and enhance his strength.

"Well, me and Hauler are in the storage bay looking for the materials you needed for the re-wiring. There's just one problem." Grapple said over the comn line. "We ran out of the electrical wire."

"Ran out, are you sure Grapple?" Hoist responded.

"Absolutely. Next time we can feasibly get some is if we stop at a neutral planet. Even then, the maintenance division might not have enough funds to purchase enough and extra. Come back and assist with the welding for now."

Hoist walked back through the airlock and into a nearby hallway and sat down on a crate. Their luck just kept on getting worse and worse.


	3. Chapter 3

~~A Few Cybertronic Orbital Cycles Later~~

Hoist sat outside the storage room looking down as his hands. They were torn and gritty, well worn. He had to move lots of storage crates by himself to the Maintenance Divisions storage bay. He had been on the task all day, alone the whole time, even though he was promised help from Optimus Prime himself. His direct commanding officer was busy himself trying to make sure other more critical functions stayed online and had no-one to spare for him. Mirage and Tracks, two able-bodied men, were promised to help him move the crates. However, neither of them showed up and Hoist would have wasted more time trying to hunt the two down. He had made note of that in his report, which, would hopefully get passed along to Optimus. Trying to sooth his hurting hands, with no avail, he got up from where he was on the floor and proceeded to head towards the medical bay. Perhaps getting someone to make sure they were not going to fall off would do some good.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Mirage laughed as he took another sip of the vintage. The taste of cool energon on his lips soothed him as he leaned back into his chair. Tracks sat across from him, clearly not fully sober, but not drunk enough to impede his judgement. Tracks reached for his cup as he began to speak,

"So tell me, Mirage, how did you get us out of cargo duty? You usually follow Optimus's word."

Mirage put down his cup, golden optics look at Tracks with a hint of mischief hidden in the back.

"Well, you see Tracks, I used my status to get what I want, like usual. I flaunted my wealth like the vulgar do, but this time, it was..." Mirage paused, looking out of the window to a planet they were passing by, "Well, this time it was different. It worked, because of who _I_ am."

"Prime's going to be pissed though when he finds out we didn't help Hoist." Tracks put in, as he finished pouring another cup of the vintage.

Mirage chuckled and looked at Tracks.

"I'm not too worried."

"Of course your not, Mirage, but some of us in this room can't use their battlesuit to turn invisible on a whim either." Tracks objected.

"Oh, I know that. But I have just the perfect person to place the blame onto. Now, come, let us enjoy this vintage more, and talk of more pleasant topics."

\-----------------------------

Pipewrench got to work applying ointment and wrapping Hoist's hands in bandages.

"Now remember, keep these wrapped for the next ten CYOC. Then come back for us to see how they are healing. No working duty whatsoever. We need the hands healed." Pipewrench said, looking at Hoist. "If you don't, I'll get my uncle after you."

Hoist got up from the medical berth with assistance from Pipewrench.

"Thanks. I'll remember that." Hoist said as he left. Pipewrench only got back to his duties, sighing. Being the nephew of the Chief Medical Officer had few benefits when the CMO himself was a old, stern and strict man. Some days he wished there was no war.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things happen.

Red Alert wasn't happy. Well, that was an understatement.

The correct term was "furious", Inferno surmised to himself as he silently stood at attention taking a verbal lashing from his boss, Security Director, and Conjux. He was inline beside a few other officers on duty at the time when someone decided that their already tense and frantic lives could in fact, get worse.  
  
"- and yet all you do is stand and say yes to me like some sort of convoluted yes-men! Its a conspiracy, I'm sure of it."

"Yes, sir, of course." One of the less experienced bot's answered. Inferno internally cringed, knowing full well that this wasn't going to be good, and mentally prepared himself to pry Red off the poor mech.

"You dare mock _me_, Spacekeeper?" Red Alert screeched at the lowly enforcer. "I should have your arrested on charges of treason! Court-martialed!" 

Inferno moved, and swiftly restrained his boss, preventing him from lunging at Spacekeeper. 

"Not you too, Inferno! Your all in a conspiracy, I know it! I don't know what or how or even why, but I know your in one."

"Shh, Red, relax." Inferno murmured in his boss's ear as he inserted a needle into Red Alert's neck and injected him with a powerful sedative that rendered the Security Director limp and unconscious in Inferno's arms. Inferno then looked up at the terrified men. "Return to your posts. Don't worry about Red, I'm taking him to Medical so Commander Ratchet can deal with him once this wears off."

The men present mumbled and wandered off. Inferno sighed, looking down at his boss, then hefted him over his shoulder and walked out of the Security Hub towards the med bay.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  


Perceptor couldn't say he had not seen or experience many odd and traumatizing things as a medical officer. It was, in silent rejoicing, a relief when Inferno dropped an unconscious Red Alert down on an empty medical berth.  
  
"He was going off on a tangent again, Medical Officer. Fix him, I'll be back later to check up on him."   
  
Then Inferno turned heel and walked out of the med-bay, leaving Perceptor alone with the equivalent of a ticking time bomb. Silently, the medical officer got to work restraining the head of Security and attaching all the necessary lines and IV's. He figured he wouldn't bother his boss with this issue - yet. It was comforting to have something relatively normal to deal with, better than separating the Twins from a giant ball of hardened adhesive then they were in nothing but their sparkday suits. Perceptor loved normality and focused on imputing the relevant data into the chart.

He was so focused on his current task that he failed to notice that his boss was standing behind him.

"So, Perceptor, tell me, why's Red laying in my Medical bay?"

"Sir, Inferno dumped him here and only gave that Red Alert somehow managed to work himself up into a tangent."  
  
  
"I'll question Inferno later. I'm just wondering if this 'tangent' of his was related to earlier's incident on the lower decks involving Strongarm. Its the only logical conclusion that I can come to at the moment. Quite damning, too, the accusations against all parties." Ratchet surmised, hand on one chin. "Never mind my ramblings, get on with it. I've got a Prime to see."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mirage chuckled to himself. That stunt went well. Not that he wanted to have poor Strongarm investigated, or Red Alert, but having Security off his and everyone elses back while they sorted out their internal affiars would help moral among the ship's crew, and to the fact that his sabotage skills needed practicing. When he silently informed Tracks, the mech couldn't believe that he had pulled it off.

However, the die had been cast and the blame shifted successfully, and that warranted a celebratory drink from a fine old vintage. As Mirage drunk himself into a over-energized stupor, he staggered straight into a wall, and fell to the floor, laughing to himself about how much of a darn good sport he was, and thats how he passed out, giddy as can be.


End file.
